Author: matt.kelemen

In a way, this letter should be all about Chile, since we spent almost the whole of the year there. But it’s hard to focus on the middle when the bookends were so staggeringly beautiful and impactful. We started the year at bottom of the world, where no humans live save a small number of scientists dedicated to understanding — and sometimes preserving — our world. It is a breathtaking place, with icebergs the size of towns and sunsets that last forever.

We ended the year surrounded by family and friends, celebrating Dylan becoming bar mitzvah along with our California homecoming. We are grateful to all of the grandparents, siblings, cousins and friends who made treks short and far to join in the festivities and to witness Dylan do a stellar job reading and interpreting Torah. A special shout-out to James Green, who managed to make the Friday Shabbat all the way from Beijing, China.

As we reflect on the year, we are reminded of Nelson Mandela’s words: “There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” Each of us has been profoundly altered by our time outside of the United States.

From Adela: Change is something we encounter in our everyday lives. It may be hidden, but our lives are constantly changing in more ways that we realize. My life this year has been impacted by change, from little things like winning my first gold medal in swimming, to big things like moving to another country. The two biggest changes in my life this year have been my trip to Antarctica and my return to the US. I’ll start with my trip to the Antarctic. We traveled by boat for one week and four days, and I saw wondrous things that could not be described, as words seemed too simple and plain to make someone understand the stunning beauty of the Antarctic. I was fascinated by the intricate ecosystem that survives in the most hostile place on earth. I also noticed that it was hot some days. Hot. The Antarctic is not supposed to be hot. Our pollution and waste is destroying the most beautiful place on earth. It made me so sad and so angry. It changed me and made me want to help save Antarctica, but I can’t do it alone. I want to use part of this letter to try and convince you to do what you can to help the environment. I have tried to conserve more water and recycle more often, because even the smallest act can make a difference. I am concerned more and more about the earth’s health and well-being because, one, I want to preserve its beauty and wonder, and two, this is a world that my family, friends and I are growing up and living in. I don’t want to live in a world that’s slowly dying from global warming, rising sea levels, or even the poison of nuclear radiation. It’s our responsibility to protect our home.

On another happy note (sarcastic voice), our family is going to be living apart for who knows how long, and it’s going to be hard. I am starting off 2018 living in San Francisco with my dad while my mom and brother will be living in Santiago, Chile. Half-way through the year, my mom plans to return to San Francisco and my dad will go to Santiago to be with Dylan. It’s hard to contemplate that I won’t be constantly annoyed by my brother and that I won’t always be pestered by both my parents to do my chores. Just kidding. I’m going to miss my brother a lot, and whichever parent will be in South America. Luckily we have plans to visit each other frequently throughout the year. This will be a big change for me, but I think I’ll manage.

From Matt: For me, 2017 was the year of the pichanga, which is Chilean for a pick-up game of futbol. I feel lucky to have met Rodrigo Diaz Mery, a work colleague, who introduced me to his tight circle of friends since forever. Wednesday and Sunday nights became my weekly social anchors, though with the inclusion of a beer and sandwich after each game, I can’t say that my fitness improved. I will definitely miss Mery, Tito, Topo, Checho, Cabezón, Kiko, Pelado, Panchito, Flaco, Pato, Gato, Gringo, Simpson, Cristian, Arquero, Pablo and the rest of the Cancha Siete gang, both for the football and for the camaraderie. And, of course, it was tough saying goodbye to Paula and Gonzalo, my dearest friends in Santiago.

Professionally, it was satisfying to see the Chilean congress finally pass the New Public Education law that paves the way for the creation of school districts. I had the pleasure of working on the implementation strategy for the new law and designing a university-based training program for professionals who will work in the new school districts. At the same time, much of my work was focused on improving schools in the US through amazing organizations like New Leaders, the School Leader Lab, Matriculate and XQ. It was somewhat surreal to spend many of my days on the phone with colleagues in the states and then walk out the door to shop and see friends in Santiago. I am grateful to be in closer proximity to colleagues and to be back in the heart of the resistance.

Jeannette and I celebrated 17 years of marriage this year and marked it with an incredible weekend in Buenos Aires. Sumptuous food, boulevards that recall Paris or New York, late night speakeasies followed by later-night dancing. And it was made all the more special by Jeannette’s insistence in doing all the planning. All I had to do was show up.

Among the many gifts of parenting this year, Dylan becoming bar mitzvah stands out. His standing at the bimah not only represented a personal accomplishment and a deepening of his spiritual life, it also continued a generational thread back through my dad, my grandmother, and her family before her. It was a happy day for us, and I know it would have meant a lot to her.

From Jeannette: This year was a great year in travel for me, and two highlights from my year occurred more than 7,500 miles from one another, and lots in between.

The furthest point south was just past the Antarctic Circle on our family trip to Antarctica in January . . . Sailing from the Falkland Islands, across Drake’s Passage, and crossing the Antarctic Circle was a remarkable adventure. I saw and learned so much about:

• the remarkable albatross, which can live for up to 60 years, has a 3.5m wingspan (nearly 12ft), and can fly for up to five years (!) without landing
• behaviors of gentoo, adelie, and chinstrap penguins — I especially loved seeing porpoising gentoo penguins (jumping out of the water at speeds of more than 20mph), and rooted for penguin parents protecting their chicks from hungry skuas
• the magnificence of several species of whales — humpback, fin, minke — especially from a kayak. Breathtaking. Humbling.
• the triumphs and tragedies of courageous polar explorers
• how people who brave life on the coldest continent live — we visited 4 bases/research stations

The northern-most highlight was on a week-long trip to Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island to surprise my mom for her birthday. We covered a lot of ground visiting places where our Acadian ancestors lived before most were deported by the British to Maryland during the Seven Years’ War. Everywhere we went we met extraordinarily kind people who helped us investigate our “new world” family history as far back as the early 17th century.

I lucked out with two short trips to Buenos Aires — one with Matt for our anniversary in May, and one with Adela in November. We four took a road trip south to Valdivia and Chiloe for the week celebrating Chilean independence, and we treasured weekend getaways with friends. I was also traveling a lot for work — mostly training educators how to design and implement project-based learning. I relished my days visiting schools to see students publicly exhibiting their work and powerfully reflecting on their learning experiences. My U.S.-based work with XQ is exciting too — and I look forward to continuing and deepening that impactful work in 2018.

From Dylan: As you can see, this year has been pretty uneventful for the Kelefors family. We didn’t visit multiple wonders of the world. We didn’t make a family decision to live in two different cities so that Adela and I can pursue our dreams and talents, and we definitely didn’t create a wonderful family reunion around my coming of age in the Jewish community. So, as I said before, 2017 wasn’t very interesting for us.

While our passports and photo albums didn’t change much, we did. More than anything, 2017 was a year of growth for me, both psychologically and physically. For starters, I passed both of my parents in height, a feat I knew I would accomplish sometime in my life, but definitely not this soon. Also, I have been fully immersed in my soccer development, and that has forced me to build muscle and try to gain some fat (which my parents say is good for some reason).

I didn’t just grow physically. Since March, I have been studying tirelessly for both school and my bar mitzvah. While it’s been fun, and I’ve learned a lot, it was hard. I would get home at 8 o’clock in the evening after training and would have to do another hour of work before bed. But, all this hard work paid off. I expanded my scientific knowledge, taking Physics, Biology and Chemistry this year, along with an eventful year in history, literally. We learned about WW1, the Russian Revolution and a bunch of detailed Chilean history (that part wasn’t so fun).

The other part of my development as a person was my bar mitzvah training. In addition to the practice of my torah portion and blessings, I challenged my knowledge in conversations with Rabbi Jason Rodich, ranging from “what it really means to be Jewish” to what the topic of my D’var Torah would be. For all of you who attended my bar mitzvah celebration, you might say it looked easy. Well it wasn’t, but I can assure you that it was fun. As Simone Biles once said: “At the end of the day if you can say ‘I had fun,’ it was a good day.” I think that everyone should live by that because life is way too short to have any boring days.

And that takes me to my final point. My social life, which is literally the center of my life. I don’t function properly without social interaction, and this year has been a perfect example of it. In Chile, I had a fair number of holidays and long weekends without my friends. These days were the most challenging for me, as I literally couldn’t find activities that could entertain me for more than 30 minutes. My friends were so very important to me this year. As my dad always says; “Dylan, what would you do without friends?” and recently I have asked myself the same question. But each time I ask myself, it’s a dead end. I think about my friends every second of every day of every year, whether they live in San Francisco, Santiago, or anywhere else in the world.   

2017 by the numbers:

0 — number of red, white and blue teams that the Kelefors roots for in soccer that qualified for the 2018 World Cup

1 — number of times Jeannette used the Heimlich maneuver to save a friend from choking on a piece of (deliciously) grilled meat

2.5 — hours Adela pored over the books at El Ateno Grand Splendid bookstore in Buenos Aires before Jeannette bribed her with gelato to explore other parts of the city

3 — upcoming eclipses with great views from Chile (2/15/2018; 7/2/2019; 12/14/ 2020)

8 — number of snow-capped peaks we could see from the lookout at Parque Oncol in Valdivia

10 — countries recommended for travel by Lonely Planet in 2018 — and Chile is number 1! (Chile’s 200th anniversary of independence happens in September this year.)

14 — number of family members and friends who came to visit in 2017 — shout outs go to (in order of appearance): Elissa Pearlman, Karen Adair, Gail Langkush, Sheryl Cornelius, Kary LaFors, Judy Boroschek, Karen Hébert, The Kaden-Castillo family (Andy, Suzanne and Delilah), Kati Haycock, Jan Somerville, and Margaret & Ben Fisher — we so loved seeing you!

41 — points earned by Dylan’s soccer team in the second half of the year (out of a possible 51)

50 — number of miles (80K) we backpacked in Torres del Paine over 6 days/5 nights

66°33’47.0” (plus a little) — southernmost latitude we reached in Antarctica — just past the Antarctic Circle

150 — number of Americans (Adela and Jeannette among them) who gathered in Santiago for a candlelight vigil condemning white supremacy and offering solidarity with the defenders of justice in Charlottesville

1006 — days without XC skiing for Matt (dating back to March 2015), a slump ended in December 2017

*****

2018 promises to be a different kind of year. Dylan wants to be a professional soccer player and has a path to do that with his current club in Chile. So he will be returning in January and staying there indefinitely. Adela wants to pursue her interests in music and theater and has a path to do that in San Francisco. So she will be staying there indefinitely. For Jeannette and Matt, that means taking turns in Santiago and San Francisco and finding midway points to meet up as a family. We will be welcoming visitors in either of the great cities we have the pleasure of calling home. We wish you a healthy, happy, and meaningful 2018.

Peace,

Jeannette, Matt, Dylan and Adela

By Dylan Kelemen

Most people know what Antarctica is, but for those who don’t, it’s that huge ice covered continent down south. Really far south. Where we went was about 3500 km (2230 miles) from Cape Horn, Chile, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Literally.

At one point in history, this extraordinary place had to be discovered, but we don’t know exactly who or when. James Cook was the first Westerner to document a sighting of Antarctica on the HM Bark Endeavour expedition in 1771, but that’s about it for the time period. Then in 1820, Nathan Palmer recorded his sighting of the continent. We know more about famous Antarctic expeditions like Roald Amundsen and Ronald Scott’s race to the pole, as well as the ill-fated Trans-Antarctic expedition led by Sir Ernest Shackleton. These are just a few of the thousands of expeditions led by various countries around the world. We had the chance to visit this wonderful place this January, and learned a ton about its history. We learned things about early Antarctic explorations to present-day politics. From its inhospitable climate to the abundant wildlife and ecosystem.

Endurance. It’s a word that means perseverance and tolerance of a difficult situation, and it was a vital trait for early Antarctic explorers. It is also the title of a book describing the historic journey of Ernest Shackleton and the crew of his ship “The Endurance.” They intended to cross the continent on foot. But they never made it to land. They were stranded in pack ice for almost a year, circulating clockwise with the ice in the Weddell Sea until their ship was crushed and sank to the ocean floor. From then on, their mission changed. forget about crossing the continent, just survive. Against all odds, they escaped the harsh conditions of the ice pack and took sail in the lifeboats they’d been hauling around for months.

But things got worse from there. By luck — and only luck — they reach a tiny piece of land called Point Wild on Elephant Island where 22 men wintered with only the protection from two boats. Shakleton set sail for South Georgia Island with a crew of five in the third boat. They braved a 800-mile journey in order to seek rescue. And they made it.

Another expeditions rival Shackleton’s for the title of “most famous,” and those were the expeditions that generated the race to the pole. The competitors in this race were Roald Amundsen and Ronald Scott. Like Shackleton, Scott was British and had a macho style, with the ideal of confronting everything thrown at him and coming out on top. Amundsen, on the other hand, took years to prepare for his expedition, accounting for every little detail that would play a part in his reaching the ultimate goal.

The differences between Amundsen and Scott showed up not only in the outcome of the race but in what each of them brought on their voyages. The well-prepared Amundsen brought skis to substantially ease the load that would otherwise be carried by hikers, while Scott brought horses which turned out to be useless except as a source of food.

The race to the pole wasn’t just about these two men and their crews. It was nation against nation. Both Norway and England took pride in being first, and this was a big “first”. First to the South Pole.

Amundsen was the first to plant his country’s flag at 90?S. Knowing he was ahead of Scott, Amundsen left Scott a very well thought out note which I paraphrase: If I don’t make it back, bring this note to my king so my legacy lives on. It was a brilliant note because he used it as a way to boast to Scott about beating him in a underhanded way. But Amundsen was the one who returned, while Scott’s body lay frozen in the middle of the Antarctic desert.

On our own extraordinary expedition to the seventh continent, we saw and made connections with places from this era of exploration. John Dudeney, our historian on board, told us stories and recollections about his life and the life of Antarctic explorers. Our first sighting of land after two day of sailing the open ocean was Point Wild on Elephant Island. Frank Wild and 21 other men wintered there, while we just passed it by in the comfort of our ship. Still, it was pretty cool.

One base we visited was the Ukrainian base named Vernatsky. The Ukrainians purchased this base from the British Antarctic Survey for one-pound Sterling, and agreed to keep some meteorological tests going. But also, out of kindness, they preserved a few rooms to show people what it was like to live and work at the base back in the 1950’s. This gave us insights into how hard it was and still is to live in and explore Antarctica.

People who have reached the pole are few and far between, mostly because it is the most inhospitable place on the planet. But as inhospitable as it is, it is also undeniably beautiful. Antarctica really impressed me, and changed my perspective of the world. I would recommend a visit to Antarctica to anyone who isn’t afraid to face the cold.

By Jeannette LaFors

We’d been planning our trip to Antarctica for over a year, and I’d been looking forward to it with great anticipation. But two months before we left for the ice continent, our national election crushed me and I fell into a state of total despair.

I’ll admit that I was thankful that we’d be far, far, FAR away from the events of Inauguration Day in Washington, D.C. and I considered how our “escape” would be good for me. Of course I did what I usually do ahead of a big trip: I read some books, watched some documentaries, and talked with a few other people about their experiences.

So I was all set – prepared and looking forward — but I wasn’t prepared for a prolonged state of awe and humility that I experienced. Even though I had connected with others’ profoundly transforming experiences, I was blown away by how truly reorienting the experience was for me – physically, mentally and spiritually. It couldn’t have come at a better time. My experiences in Antarctica helped me regain my hope and determination.

The wildlife in Antarctica was an inspiration. Facing of some of the world’s harshest conditions, animals on the ice continent model how to survive profound challenges. We saw a lot of birds on our trip. I’ve seen some remarkable birds on other travels, but the wandering albatross is the most awe-inspiring bird I’ve ever seen. We spotted them on the second day of our voyage on the open ocean. Their wingspans are longer than three meters (11 ft) and they can coast for hundreds of miles, flying for weeks at sea before returning to the land. They take advantage of the change in wind speed that occurs near the surface of the ocean and fly expending minimal energy. They live well into their 60s and pair for life. They are tough. They are graceful.

But animals are not the only inspiration. I was equally impressed to learn about how humans have taken on the perils of one of the most inhospitable places on earth. As we sailed passed Elephant Island I was stunned to see Point Wild where 22 men from Ernest Shackelton’s ill-fated crew spent four and a half months waiting for a rescue in 1916. They endured staggering conditions there – Point Wild had no protection from frequent storms that pummeled the small spit of land with 130kph (80mph) winds and 18 meter (60 ft) waves. They flipped two lifeboats upside down to make a hut and used a blubber stove to heat their make-shift shelter and cook the birds and seals they caught. Passing the gray frozen point transported me from a cozy existence on a scientific research ship retrofitted for tourist expeditions to brutal and unimaginable hardships suffered by the men during their 22-month ordeal. This story about how human spirits conquered seemingly impossible odds of survival regrounded me and gave me courage.

The encounters I had with nature while paddling a kayak were among the most memorable of our trip. They reintroduced me to whimsy and reminded me how important it is to be fully present in the moment. It was amazing to be cruising along in a kayak with Dylan when a “bergy bit” rolled upside down not more than 15 meters away from us. “Cool!” we thought, as our guides cautioned us to keep a safe distance away from floating ice. We also saw penguins zip past us, porpoising out of the water and appearing to play with one another. Our good luck discovering a Weddell seal lounging on some ice less than 10 meters away from made us downright giddy.

On one morning after a quick visit to the Argentinian Almirante Brown Research Station, Adela and I launched our paddle in Paradise Cove – purported to be one of the most beautiful places along the Antarctic Peninsula. Our guide pointed out the blue-eyed cormorants nesting with their chicks on the rocky cliffs. After a bit of paddling along the coast we headed into the cove when a giant chunk of ice broke off a 30-story iceberg with a mighty thunderous crack and splash. As we looked on, the iceberg straight ahead of us in the middle of the cove began to rock enough to threaten a flip – a flip that could have sent capsizing waves our way. It didn’t take long for our kayak guides’ unequivocal commands and adrenaline rush to motivate Adela and me to paddle as quickly as possible away from the potential iceberg tsunami.

In the end, the iceberg didn’t flip, and we felt great relief in avoiding a potential disaster. After things settled down from all that excitement, we crossed the cove to take in the most spectacular glaciers of our trip – with greater consciousness of how nature can hold us with riveting beauty one moment and threaten our lives in another.

And then we spotted a minke whale. It was only a few meters away from our kayak and it was so gorgeous: black, smooth, graceful. . . . breathtaking. I didn’t bother to get out my camera. I watched without blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment of our encounter with this gentle giant. When it breathed out of its blowhole I felt even more connected in the experience. It was stunning. Truly stunning. As the wisdom of ancient peoples asserts, whales are powerful symbols and sources of strength, spirituality and leadership.

Later that same day Adela and I hiked up Danco Island – uninhabited by humans but home to thousands of penguins. We took in a panoramic view that took my breath away. With a couple of visual reference points – the kayakers paddling in the water below us and our anchored ship in the channel – I could take in the immense mountain peaks from the Antarctic peninsula and other nearby islands. I breathed the pristine air very deeply for several minutes in silence. The land, ice, sky, and water danced with the light from the longest days of sun I’ve ever experienced. The immensity and purity of the continent really hit me. It made me feel infinitesimally small, but simultaneously empowered.

The enormous and magnificent beauty, along with the terrifying conditions that characterize Antarctica, moved me in important ways. First, it offered me healing from the despair and paralyzing fear I’d experienced with November’s election. My world had blown up: my values, my confidence that hard-won progress would stick, and my hopes that we could count on some shared fundamentals were painfully shaken. I’d felt overwhelmed and lost.

But the beauty of Antarctica calmed me. The time away from electronic devices, constant news cycles and social media allowed me to focus and meditate upon the vast beauty I encountered. In doing so, I found some personal serenity. But it also made it even more apparent that I must be fierce in stewarding precious environmental resources. The health of our planet — so immense and wondrous — depends upon an unequivocal commitment to fight against the forces that put us and other living things in peril.

I had expected to leave Antarctica a more worldly and informed individual, but I underestimated the power that it would have to support a personal transformation. Our experience helped me to feel more anchored, less overwhelmed, renewed and remotivated to take on critical stewarding and servant leadership roles in my life. I am so very grateful for the gifts and insights I gained on our trip and for the shared family experience that will no doubt be one of the most memorable trips – if not the most memorable one — of our lives.

Asombro y gratitud en la Antártica

Habíamos estado planificando nuestro viaje a la Antártida durante más de un año y lo había estado esperando con mucha anticipación. Pero dos meses antes de nuestra salida al continente de hielo nuestras elecciones nacionales me machucó y caí en un estado de desesperación total.

Confieso que estaba agradecida de haber estado lejos, lejos, LEJOS de los eventos del día de la inauguración en Washington, D.C. y consideré que nuestro escape sería bueno para mí. Claro, hice lo que hago normalmente frente a un gran viaje: Leí algunos libros, vi varios documentales y hablé con algunas personas de sus experiencias personales.

Entonces estaba bien lista – preparada y anticipada – pero no estaba preparada por un estado extendido de asombro y humildad como lo que sentí. Aunque había conectado a la profundidad de las experiencias de otros y la profundidad de transformación que tuvieron me quedé asombrada de cómo me reorientó la experiencia – física, mental y espiritualmente.

La fauna de la Antártida fue una inspiración. Enfrentando una de las condiciones más severas del mundo, los animales del continente de hielo modelan cómo sobrevivir desafíos profundos. Vimos muchos pájaros durante nuestro viaje. He visto algunos pájaros extraordinarios en otros viajes, pero el albatros errante es el más inspirador que he visto. Los divisamos en el segundo día de nuestra travesía en el océano abierto. Sus envergaduras son de más de tres metros de largo y pueden recorrer miles de kilómetros, volando durante semanas en el mar antes de regresar a la tierra. Aprovechan el cambio de velocidad del viento que ocurre cerca de la superficie del mar y vuelan gastando la energía mínima. Viven hasta sus sesenta y se emparejan para toda la vida. Son fuertes. Son airosos.

Pero los animales no son la única inspiración. Me impresionó igual aprender de cómo los humanos han enfrentado los riesgos de uno de los lugares más inhóspitos del mundo. Cuando navegamos por la Isla Elefante me asustó ver El Punto Wild donde 22 hombres de la tripulación condenada de Ernest Shackleton se quedaron cuatro y medio meses esperando un rescate en 1916. Ellos sustentaron condiciones impactantes allá – el Punto Wild no tenía ninguna protección de las tormentas frecuentes que aporreaban el pequeño punto de tierra con rachas de 130 kilómetros y olas de 18 metros. Dieron vuelta sus dos botes salvavidas para hacer un refugio y usaron una estufa de grasa de ballena para calentar su espacio y cocinar los pájaros y focas que atrapaban. Pasar el punto gris y congelado me transportó desde mi existencia cómoda en el barco científico modernizado para expediciones turísticas a adversidades brutales e inconcebibles sufridas por los hombres durante su dura experiencia de 22 meses. Este cuento de cómo los espíritus humanos conquistaron probabilidades casi imposibles de supervivencia me repuso en terreno firme y me dio coraje.

Los encuentros que tuve con la naturaleza mientras remaba en un kayak estaban entre los más memorables de nuestro viaje. Me reintrodujeron a la extravagancia y me recordaron lo importante que es estar plenamente presente en el momento. Fue increíble estar navegando en kayak con mi hijo Dylan cuando un “bergy bit” volteó no más lejos de 15 metros de nosotros. “Genial!” pensamos, mientras nuestras guías nos avisaron sobre la importancia de mantener una distancia segura del hielo flotando. También vimos pingüinos pasándonos volando, saltando sobre el mar y jugando aparentemente entre ellos. Nuestra buena suerte al descubrir una foca “Weddell” holgazaneando sobre el hielo a menos de 10 metros de nosotros nos puso vertiginosos con optimismo.

Durante la mañana después de una visita corta a la estación argentina de investigaciones científicas que se llama Almirante Brown, Adela y yo iniciamos el viaje en kayak a la “Caleta Paraíso” – afirmado como uno de los lugares más hermosos en la península Antártica. Nuestra guía nos señaló a los cormoranes imperiales en sus nidos en las paredes del acantilado con sus polluelos. Después de algunos minutos de remar, entramos en la caleta cuando un pedazo gigante de hielo cayó desde un iceberg de 30 pisos con un chasquido de trueno y un gran salpicadura. Mientras observábamos el iceberg, que estaba exactamente frente a nosotros en medio de la caleta, empezó a balancearse suficientemente fuerte como para amenazar con darse vuelta – vuelta que podría enviarnos olas tan grandes como para volcar nuestro kayak. No pasó mucho tiempo para que las órdenes de nuestras guías y nuestro alto nivel de adrenalina nos motivaran a remar lo más rápido posible fuera del potencial tsunami del iceberg.

Al final, el iceberg no se dio vuelta y sentimos un gran alivio al evitar un desastre potencial. Cuando todo se calmó, cruzamos la caleta para contemplar los glaciares más espectaculares de nuestro viaje – con mayor consciencia de cómo la naturaleza puede cautivarnos con su belleza en un momento pero nos amenaza en otro

Y en ese momento localizamos una ballena minke. Estaba solamente a algunos metros de nuestro kayak y era tan espléndida: negra, lisa, graciosa . . . imponente. No me molesté en sacar mi cámara para tomar fotos. Miraba sin parpadear, no quería perderme ningún momento de nuestro encuentro con ese gigante dulce y noble. Cuando sopló desde su espiráculo me sentí además más conectada a la experiencia. Fue sorprendente. Como la sabiduría de los ancianos afirma, las ballenas son símbolos poderosos y fuentes de esfuerzo, espiritualidad y liderazgo.

Más tarde el mismo día, Adela y yo dimos subimos en un sendero de la Isla Danco – deshabitado por los humanos pero llena de miles de pingüinos. Disfrutamos la vista panorámica que me dejó sin aire. Con algunas puntos de referencia visual – los kayakers remando en el mar abajo y nuestro barco anclado en el cauce – podía contemplar las cimas de las montañas inmensas de la península Antártica y otras islas cercanas. Respiré el aire prístino con mucha profundidad por varios minutos en silencio. La tierra, el hielo, el cielo y el agua bailaban con la luz del día más largo que había tenido. La inmensidad y la pureza del continente me golpearon. Me sentí infinitesimal, pero simultáneamente empoderada.

La belleza tan inmensa y magnífica, junto con las condiciones espantosas, características de la Antártica me conmovió de varias maneras importantes. Primero, me ofreció un proceso de recuperación de la desesperanza y del miedo paralizado que sentía después de nuestras elecciones en noviembre. Mi mundo había estallado: mis valores, mi confianza en que el progreso conseguido con dificultad se mantendría y mis esperanzas de confiar en algunos principios compartidos estaban tambaleándose]. Me sentía anulada y perdida.

Pero la belleza de la Antártica me calmó. El tiempo fuera de los dispositivos electrónicos, ciclos constantes de las noticias y medios de comunicación social me permitió enfocarme y meditar sobre la belleza amplia que encontraba. Con esto tuve serenidad personal. También me quedó claro que tenía que ser intensa en la protección de los preciosos recursos ambientales. La salud de nuestro planeta – tan inmenso y maravilloso – depende de un compromiso inequívoco para luchar contra fuerzas que nos han puesto en peligro conjuntamente a nosotros y a las otras cosas vivas.

Había anticipado salir de la Antártica como una persona más vivida e informada pero subestimé el poder que tenía para apoyarme en una transformación personal. Nuestra experiencia me ayudó a sentirme más anclada, menos anulada, renovada y remotivada para enfrentar roles de liderazgo y protección en mi vida. Estoy agradecida por los regalos y percepciones que adquirí en nuestro viaje y por la experiencia familiar compartida que, sin duda, será uno de los más memorables – si no la más memorable – de nuestras vidas.